Nostalgia Product
by Iori-chan-sempai
Summary: Jin gets a little extra lookin' after in Ronin-gai. Jin/Makoto. Sexual content.


"Thank you," Makoto says at his bedside, "for saving me from Captain Hazama."

Jin doesn't know why he had done it in the first place, whether the concern comes from her being an old schoolmate , or one of Tsubaki's friends, or simply from his animosity toward Hazama, so he says nothing in return. He frowns, but Makoto leans closer, a bit of a grin on her face, "I was surprised. After all the things I heard and even what you'd said... you turned out to be the same guy after all."

But she's wrong, there's so much different, so many things he's done, seen- and yet, he supposes she's right at the same time. Either way, the sentence is just another show of her obliviousness, her- everyone's- inclination to think of the past when all the matters is the present, the future. He's about to call her an idiot for thinking that people never change, but there's a startling fondness in her eyes when she murmurs, "It made me really glad, too." Jin allows her to press her hand against his own, lets her move in and kiss him.

Immediately, he remembers their high school days, remembers that one field trip where she had done the same in the quiet of the empty lobby, thinking he was asleep. There were no words to say, he could only feign sleep as she pulled back, ran her fingers through his hair just once- before Tsubaki's voice echoed through the building calling her name and Makoto took off like a frightened mouse.

Jin had slowly opened his eyes, pressed a finger to lips to think, to wonder why that kiss was curious, warm, even nice- and had been almost ashamed to realize it was his first. He'd touched, fingers curling against slender waists as he bit at the necks of pretty girls, pushed inside them, but never kissed a single one.

Jin hadn't mentioned it back then, has no reason to mention it now, just accepts the press of lips against his own with surprising ease. Makoto pulls back only seconds after the wet hint of tongue and her voice is low, playful, in an effort to hide sheer suppliance, "I remember that you were quite the playboy back then... so what do you say, Major?"

For some reason, kissing her, screwing her doesn't seem like a bad idea. Kissing had always felt disgusting to him once he had truly tried it, too personal, too sacred, but Makoto's lips are soft and full. On a whim, he cups her cheek and initiates another, this one deep and searching. She's gentle but assertive, her tongue slipping against his in an experimental dance, as though memorizing every detail. Maybe it is because Jin has a heart for devotion, for being needed in the wake of having nothing for himself, and Makoto's admiration is so tender, yet so wanton (as pure and heartfelt as Tsubaki's love, only Tsubaki would never have the gall to do this).

He pushes a little closer, hand trailing up her shoulder to rest at the back of her neck; Makoto reaches out to clench the covers, supporting herself as she hovers over him. Her black beret tumbles to the floor in a sign of unprofessional negligence, but she pays it no mind. Their lips finally part, Makoto flushed and panting over him with a hand on his chest, urging him to lean back completely.

In her eyes are careful lust, restraint, and the will to turn and leave if Jin Kisaragi simply commanded it of her, no matter how much she had been praying for this moment, or how long she had been envious of Jin's loveless flings. It's the power he holds over her without even knowing it, the power that she foolishly gives over to him without a word that makes her so intoxicating.

After all, Jin could never bring himself to target one of his admirers before, too worried about a strings-attached relationship when all he wanted was physical release. He only chose those likewise budding social beauties who regarded him as a prize or a good lay but never ever felt real love for him. Camaraderie, sure, lust, yes, but actual longing? Jin hadn't been prepared to handle that, the tears and outrage when a pretty fan eventually realized the kind of man he was.

How was he to know being the object of someone's affection in this setting could feel so good, so powerful? Else perhaps, he would have kissed Tsubaki's face and found this perfect taste, this same terrified desire on her skin (alas, touching Tsubaki with these careless hands would be nothing more than breaking her heart).

He should really leave, he has somewhere to be- but his wounds are aching and damn him for wanting to get caught up in sensation this very moment. Makoto licks her lips and looks down at him, waiting for a real answer, the quietest, most unobstructive that he has ever seen her. "There's nothing after this," Jin promises her, but she's already well aware of the danger and willing despite it.

She lets out a little laugh, pleased with the silly thought of him being concerned over her, "I know, I know. This is me giving up on you, okay?" A lie if he's ever heard one, but Jin ignores it, lets Makoto lean over him and hook her fingers in his belt. Likewise, he reaches up to release the clasps on her cloak, the black cloth falling around her knees.

Jin can't help the pleased sound that makes it out of his throat as he admires the rather skimpy attire beneath. "Don't tell me you were planning to seduce me since the beginning, Lieutenant?" and Makoto's face instantly flushes, her tail straightening nervously behind her. To be honest, Makoto had always been a cute girl, but in the past few years, she had truly filled out, her impressive bosom in high school almost modest in comparison to the present.

"It's easier to move in, I'll have you know," Makoto insists, the red at her cheeks only fading to a pink; Jin has a little smirk on his face but doesn't prod her more, brushes his fingers against her stomach and hips, caressing her skin in heavily practiced patterns. To his further amusement, she nearly purrs at the contact, the end of her tail starting to curl. Jin can't say he's never imagined what it would be like to have sex with a beastkin before, would even go as far as to admit that he'd considered Makoto, and certainly doesn't have any qualms when she peels off his clothes with dexterous fingers.

Makoto doesn't play too coy, quickly slips her hands down his chest to rub at his stiffening cock before following the path with her mouth. She closes her eyes, and Jin is a little flattered at how hard she seems to be concentrating when she swallows his cock; certainly he can't be anything but pleased with it, the wet heat of her mouth as her tongue pushes against the underside of his cock, making him groan. Fuck, how long had it been since he had been with someone? Since he had truly felt pleasure, had been able to look down and see flushed lips eagerly sealed around his cock?

Jin murmurs little words of encouragement under his breath as she sucks at the head, pumping at the base and cradling his balls with her hands. Her eyes meet his, and he sucks in a breath, remembering just how good it felt to have someone so beneath him, so willing to please him (and idly wonders if his brother ever felt the same way). His fingers slide into Makoto's hair, pushing her closer, urging her to take him deeper. When he starts to buck into her throat, she doesn't even think to complain.

He smothers a moan when Makoto sucks harder, bobs up and down on his cock in faithful response to his movements. A few more thrusts into her mouth and she withdraws, looking up at him as she licks her lips. Oh, Makoto- usually so impulsive and loud, but now she's rendered silent, so careful in ways that she never was. Jin could probably tell her to finish sucking his cock and get out of his sight and she'd do just that- but he doesn't, just stares back and asks, "What are you waiting for?" and she's tearing open a foil square and sliding the condom over his dick within seconds.

"I'll take care of you, Major," Makoto mutters before she straddles his hips, settling right on his cock with a sharp gasp. Jin can't hold back his voice at the action, instantly concedes a low growl when he feels that hot, tight pussy tensing around him.

"Fuck," he breathes, and then Makoto starts to _move_; the pace is slow at first, she raises her hips and slides back down, voluntarily clenching her muscles on him. Jin lets her do as she wishes, lets himself be truly serviced as she rides his cock with surprising skill. It's not hard to be preoccupied with her body when she leans back, clinging to his thighs, to roll her hips more aggressively. Makoto lets out a small moan when he grazes her G-spot that Jin echoes once she lowers herself on him and her passage is undeniably tighter.

Her face is flushed deep pink and she takes in gasping little breaths now that she's found the perfect angle; Jin stares up at her, isn't sure if the beastkin is just uncharacteristically quiet in bed or doing her best to agreeable to him. His hands climb her legs, rubbing and squeezing at the firm muscle there, no doubt evidence of her physical prowess. As soon as he finds her hips, he clenches them, thrusting upward into her pussy, and she immediately stiffens.

A wild moan comes out, her tail curling, swaying. "Right there is good-" she says breathlessly, and Jin gives her what Makoto wants, more, his cock inside her, their hips grinding now that she begins to rock into him. There's a fraction of discomfort in his abdomen when he tugs at her hips, literally pulling her onto his dick, but it's all submerged in pleasure in seconds.

The rhythm changes, faster, then slowing, deep thrusts that fill her completely, shallow movements aimed at her G-spot, and soon enough she's moaning like a bitch in heat, like Jin always knew she would. On a whim, he lifts a hand, rakes his fingers in the fur of her tail and watches as she shivers against him, the appendage reacting just as easily as she does to his touch.

"O-oh," a sigh, "Jin," she finally utters at the end of a strong thrust, and his name doesn't sound as horrible as he thought it would, all soaked in something deeper than lust. It's all too curious when Makoto presses against the back of his hand with her own and he impulsively links their fingers. She pushes down harder and lets out a gasp, and Jin has thought her to be a lot of things, but beautiful and perfect never resonated so loudly until this very moment.

Immediately dulling pleasure is pain, annoyance and disdain for indulging himself, them both, in this sort of silly pleasure when there was love involved- he'd be a fool to think a woman could leave her feelings behind after something like this. Nothing will make Makoto cry more than his coldness, and where he would have previously felt nothing at the fact, there is a sting of guilt. Is this why he had always been so wary? It's a natural instinct, he supposes, to want to return whatever love was lavished upon you, regardless if your feelings were the same.

Makoto's hand slips under her skirt to rub herself to climax, her voice a bit more free, a little louder, and Jin groans when she writhes in his lap. "God, Jin," she says in the same breath, her voice melding into a whimper as Jin holds tight to her thighs, fucks her harder.

"Damn," he moans, snapping his hips upward, deeper inside until the contracting warmth bearing down on him is too much. With a shuddering gasp, he thrusts once more and comes, cock twitching in orgasm. Makoto's panting, fingers moving faster against her clit as she rolls her hips, riding Jin's still hard cock and milking him completely when she cries out her release.

There's that moment of blessed numbness after it's all over with. Makoto's chest heaving in time with his for what seems to be hours before she slides herself off his cock. She rests against him for a moment, finally opens her mouth when her breathing steadies. "Jin, I," _liked you for a long time._ But she doesn't say it. Makoto swallows almost guiltily, then smiles, "Thank you."

Jin doesn't speak as she cleans him, redresses him and his wounds all while that tender expression never leaves her face. "You'd better rest for a few more days," Makoto urges him, but Jin simply rolls over onto his side. God, he's exhausted, his wounds still aching, but he doesn't have days- still, he needs hours at least, decides that he will leave once he wakes.

Makoto stands, presses a hand to his cheek, and somewhere deep inside he's mourning quietly. That silly confession will be carried in her heart again, to be held inside for how many more years because of her own naivete? Still, it was like her, like them all, to be caught up in the past, to cling to a sliver of hope where there was none at all.

Just before sleep finally hits him, there's that unmistakable, reminiscent press of her lips against his.


End file.
